


Young Woman at a Window

by blanchettstruck



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Insecurities, Lots of Thinking, past trauma, phrack - Freeform, vulnerable phryne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23639698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanchettstruck/pseuds/blanchettstruck
Summary: The ghosts of Phryne's past are, yet again, making her feel rather vulnerable; meanwhile, Jack has a surprise.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 64





	Young Woman at a Window

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first phrack fan fiction, and feedback is much appreciated!

Phryne was sitting by the window, one hand around her knees, the other moving absentmindedly, causing the amber liquid to swirl, almost mirroring her own thoughts.

The footsteps outside, although extremely light, were enough to catch her attention, given her alert state. 

She did not know what had triggered her reactions tonight- they used to come and go, as natural to her as the tides were to the ocean. What she couldn’t help but notice, however, was that they had become more frequent as her relationship with the inspector progressed from casual business flirting to somewhat solid romance; and she loathed it, this sense of immense loss and vulnerability that no matter what she did or where she went, still held her at gunpoint. 

Sometimes, if he was late and someone took just a little longer to answer the phone at South Police Station, she was convinced he had disappeared into thin air, just like Janey had, all those years ago. What’s more- just like her sister, it would have been her fault as well. 

Perhaps he went investigating without her because he needed to breathe, or perhaps he was abducted because on his way to Wardlow he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time; regardless of the situation, the outcome was inevitably the same: something would happen to him, and she was to blame. 

The door clicked open, bringing her back to the present. 

The fire cracked nearby, and Jack walked in smiling that Jack smile, the one he seemed to have only for her. It probably wasn’t enough to rid her of all worries forevermore, but it definitely did it for the time being. She let out a tired breath.

\- _Hello, Jack. Drink?_

\- _Not precisely what I came here for, but yes, please._

She was exhausted, but busying herself with that might just keep him from noticing that something wasn’t quite right. 

\- _I’m sorry it’s so late, I got caught up on something and it took longer than expected._

\- _Jack, you don’t need to explain yourself to me, you know that._

She handed him the drink, well aware that her smile didn’t really meet her eyes.

\- _What’s wrong, Phryne?_

\- _Must you interrogate me, inspector?_

She replied in an exasperated attempt to deflect.

\- _I am merely concerned about your well-being. You look… Uncharacteristically tired._

Phryne sighed.

\- _I was just thinking about Janey, that’s all._

He raised an eyebrow and closing the distance between them, put a hand on her back, so they both moved towards the window seat. 

The wind blew outside, ruffling the leaves of the trees. It was a pleasant evening, despite the early December heat, and Phryne wished they were taking a stroll, arm in arm, laughing about some stupid crime instead of whatever serious thing Jack was about to say. 

She knew it was serious because he finished his drink quickly, placed it on the little table nearby and took her free hand in his. 

That intense gaze reminded her of a fine afternoon in Queenscliff a while back, when neither the sky nor the water could compete with the blue of his eyes.

\- _Phryne…_ He hesitated. 

His expression alone could make Phryne’s heart skip a beat. Was this meant to be another romantic overture? Or a heartbreaking one? She didn’t know, for romantic love was never involved each time she’d had her heart broken; some concepts were still foreign even to a well-travelled woman like herself. 

Jack played with her hands softly before speaking again. His voice was steady yet sweet, and he was calm, even though Phryne could almost feel his erratic heartbeat. Talking didn’t come easy to neither of them, of that she was sure; they were on a level playing field even when it came to communicating with one another. 

\- _I want you to know that I’m not… Going anywhere. I mean, I won’t disappear from your life out of the blue. In fact, if we’re being honest, you, Miss Fisher, are the one who might disappear on me, given your recklessness. Though I do wish it doesn’t come to that._

And there it was again, that Jack Robinson smile. She didn’t even notice the tears on the corner of her eyes, but she didn’t mind them, either. She put her glass on the window sill, half not looking at it, half hoping it wouldn’t fall for the sake of Mr. Butler, and leaned forward to kiss him with a mix of sheer relief and burning passion. 

She couldn’t believe that man; not how smart he always was, not how close to her he was as of now, not how perfect his hands felt when he held her even closer, sending several shivers down her spine. 

And then he pulled away from their kiss to catch a breath or two, placing a tender peck on her forehead. 

\- _You never asked why I was late… Please stay there, I’ll be right back._

And just like that, the atmosphere changed: her secret albeit regular worries and insecurities gone completely, giving way to tremendous excitement. What was he doing? Was it a surprise? For her? She almost clapped her hands in anticipation, trying hard not to run after him to find out.

Jack went outside and returned holding a rectangular parcel; there was a sparkle in his eyes and a broad grin on his lips. He leaned on the doorframe before stepping into the house again, not only for the sake of mystery, but also to try and capture Phryne's bemused expression, hopefully adding it to the already long list of memories featuring his Lady Detective that seemed to have found shelter somewhere in the back of his mind.

\- _I know it’s still December first, which means we are still twenty days away from Midsummer’s Eve, but… This is for you, Miss Fisher. And I do hope you like it-_ He spoke, each merry word punctuated with a dramatic pause, for the inspector was clearly enjoying himself now. 

Phryne jumped towards the parcel eagerly, hands tearing up the brown wrapping paper faster than the usual speed of her Hispano-Suiza. 

Her eyes couldn’t believe what she saw. She was at a loss for words, which only broadened Jack’s grin: being able to surprise the unpredictable Miss Phryne Fisher was an achievement he wore like a badge of honor.

\- _Jack! A Dalí? How?_

She was smiling with body and soul alike. 

\- _Yes, Young Woman at a Window. I’m not an art collector, but I must say that when I happened to come across this one, I just knew it. Not so much for the artistic value it holds - this is something you understand a lot more than I do - but for the memories it evokes._

_The way she’s standing there, looking out the window… I caught a glimpse of you just like that, at the old mansion in Queenscliff._

\- _Funny you should say that, inspector, because the sea on the painting almost reminds me of your eyes; only they aren’t as blue._

\- _I’m sure Mr. Dalí would appreciate this feedback_ , he laughed. 

\- _Well, she is absolutely spectacular, though. And I can only think of one way to thank you… But it won’t be near enough, I’m afraid_ , Phryne smirked. 

\- _I have all the time in the world, Miss Fisher._

She looked at him with devotion-filled eyes, then proceeded to find the perfect wall where to hang that stunning painting. Stopping with her hands mid-air, she said, matter-of-factly:

\- _Despite my incorrigible reckless nature, I will always, always come back for you, Jack Robinson._

**Author's Note:**

> The painting in question: Young woman at a window, Salvador Dalí, 1925. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Young_Woman_at_a_Window#/media/File:Young_Woman_at_a_Window.jpg


End file.
